


Lofi Hip Hop Radio 24/7 / Chill Gaming / Study Beats

by hunterwho



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Gen, i mean more like fake identity tbh, identity theft, lofi hip hop, relationships are endgame and arent in like chapter 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 16:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunterwho/pseuds/hunterwho
Summary: cirava's never been smart about their decisions- but this might be the dumbest, shittiest idea they've had in a long time, maybe ever. will they come out alive? let's wait and see!





	1. 24/7 beats for ceruleans and sleep

**Author's Note:**

> this may be the first cirava/mallek fic posted on ao3. if that is so i would like to christen this ground as blessed. thx

You've just finished lining up tracks for the next several hours on your 24/7 Lofi Aesthetic Incubated Beats livestream and are about to go pass out when you see a notification ping your desktop, a headline from one of the popular news networks you're plugged into. "ARE HIGHBLOODS MORALLY, INTELLECTUALLY, AND PHYSICALLY SUPERIOR TO LOWBLOODS? WE SURVEYED 35 HIGHBLOODS WHO AGREE." You sigh. Business as usual.

But then a thought hits. Maybe it's the fact that you've been high for several hours already, but all of a sudden, you're logging out of all of your accounts- your Chittr, your ciravaSTREAMS4SWEEPS GrubTube, all of 'em. It takes a good five minutes, but finally, you're entirely signed out. You clear your browsing history, then navigate to Chittr's home page, and click on the "Sign Up" button.

Maybe it's the new friend you made just recently, that dude with the okay fashion sense who had clearly never vaped before and didn't know how to use Chittr to save his life, but you suddenly feel like creating a new account. A new personality, so to speak. In the "NAME" box, you input "Zydnei Alkele", and you mark your blood color down as... how about cerulean? If you're gonna do this, better get as high on the spectrum as possible without arousing suspicion- all the indigobloods you've heard of don't usually get online much, you could never follow clown church as convincingly as a purpleblood, and nobody without a cull wish would pose as a seadweller. Too few and far between, too easy to identify as fake. Your new bio reads: "zup guyz. new to the syztem. 7.7 zweepz. they/them." That typing quirk will be all right, probably- who knows. You don't really have a quirk yourself. Hopefully your fake will be convincing enough.

You pull a random pic of one of your ex-friends from the net, change the hairstyle, horns, and eyes, and you've got yourself a decent blueblood profile pic. According to this page, Zydnei has a lopsided cut, buzzed on one side and long on the other, tumbling down over one of their ears- your ears, you remind yourself. "Your" horns are mostly traditionally shaped, with one lightning-shaped jag on the right horn. That explains the Z thing, and should convince anyone who pries. It's fairly easy to copy onto other pictures, too, so if one of your online highblood friends needs more selfies, they shouldn't be too hard to doctor.

You click "Create account", and feel the familiar tingle in your bones that tells you you're gonna regret this later in a major way. You ignore it, post a few dumb statuses about being "ztuck on the subway" (like your gold ass could afford that) and the like, and pass out in your 'coon a little later, deciding to not think too much on the matter.

 

When you awaken, it's to the insistent buzz of your palmhusk, and once you dry your hand of sopor and groggily swipe it open, you see you've awakened to four new messages. Jegus, you don't get four messages a month on cS4S! Who's so insistent on getting your attention?

Opening Chittr, you spy the source of your newfound popularity- a user named lword134. Navigating to their profile, you find a blurry profile pic of a blue-haired "butch with an undercut", next to a profile stating exactly that. Looking at her timeline, it's mostly just lots of WLW- not that you have any problem with that, obviously, but the disaster lesbian acknowledgement has to be made- and some random cerulean shit. Swiping back to her messages, you skim them. Your eyes pick out "hey, you're a new cerulean from the area" and "cool highblood bars near here, if you're old enough, at least" and "open mic night". You swear internally when you realize you forgot to turn off your location, and navigate to your profile to set it as your general city, instead of your exact location. Well, it's the least you can do- at least it's not like your fans know you live here. You should be safe from the drones for now.

Re-reading Elwurd's messages about local bars, you punch out the sentence "soundz great! thankz for being zo welcoming, i've alwayz wanted to get on zocial media but never knew when to ztart" and hastily send. You slept for way longer than you'd planned to, and your stream's queue is almost out. After all, before Zydnei comes your actual responsibilities as a streamer of 24/7 lofi aesthetic incubated beats. Nothing can come between you and those beats. NOTHING.

You sit down at your computer and get to work.


	2. lofi hip hop radio - beats to make friends/vape to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, you know that one line from the last chapter? the "when you awaken, it's to the insistent buzz of your palmhusk, and once you dry your hand of sopor and groggily swipe it open, you see you've awakened to four new messages, jegus, you don't get four messages a month on cS4S, who's so insistent on getting your attention" line? that was me when i woke up to 5 kudos and a whole comment in less than 12 hours. thank yall so much.
> 
> also, sorry this chapter took so long to come out!! ive been more than a little busy with school et cetera. but i hope everyone likes it!

You spend the next few days chatting with Elwurd and crafting your elaborate disguise.

Horn filler is the first thing you need, of course; no cerulean would have horns like yours. With the aid of some dumpster diving, you can scrape together enough material to make yourself two decently-sized, curving horns that slide over yours smoothly and fit like a palmcover. You practice wearing them during the day, when nobody's awake besides you and whoever's dumb enough to go outside and cull themself in the blistering sun. Dumpster diving becomes one of your favorite activities; it's easy enough to pick through your highblood neighbors' trash and find a decent cerulean cosplay. You decide to keep your sign hidden- you know of a few highbloods that have the privilege to do that- so you can retain a bit more anonymity. Zydnei's gonna be the best fucking cerulean anyone's ever seen.

Elwurd's consistently helpful in unconscious ways, teaching you about the ins and outs of high society in a fashion you haven't had the privilege of learning til now. It makes your stomach turn to see the stark contrast in social media, however. Highbloods just get access to whatever they please- you get credits just for signing up for the Heiress's magazine, and when you check Zydnei's account, the number you see makes your jaw drop. Even streaming all night, every night, it would take you a month and a half to make that money- and highbloods get that just for signing up for a mailing list. You also get addicted to a few highblood soaps that you watch at night when you're high. It's amazingly produced, beautifully acted, and when you're signed in to cS4S, you don't have access. You find yourself wondering just how high this privilege goes, but you restrain yourself from creating more accounts; you're goddamn lucky you haven't aroused suspicion already, and you don't want to test your luck any more.

Before you can spend much more time contemplating the events of the past week, though, you hear a ping from your Zydnei husktop. It's Elwurd, asking you to go out to a local bar again. Normally, you'd decline her invitation, being way too scared to go anywhere in your disguise that looks shoddier and shoddier the more you compare it to the highbloods online.

But tonight, you're ready.

Before you can stop yourself and decide otherwise, you text her back, "zure. gimme a few secz to get drezzed and i'll be there. what'z the address?", take a deep breath, and go get ready.

You sigh, and take off your triangle patch. You hate how your damaged eye looks, and it makes you wince to look in the mirror and see your bare, cracked skin looking back, but if you want this disguise to work, you'll have to go all the way. You put on a fresh face of makeup and contour, covering up your scars and accentuating your eye, and fish your black eyepatch out of the back of your drawer, positioning it perfectly over your eye and snapping the elastic behind your head. You scratch off your vibrant neon nail polish and apply a fresh coat of black, shiny (and boring, in your opinion, but if you want to be Zydnei you'll have to deal) polish in its place. You slip on a somewhat loose black tee and some skinny jeans with cerulean splashes at the bottom, trying to not think about exactly where the pigment came from, and push your horn covers over the top of your horns. When you look in the mirror again, you barely recognize yourself. Good.

You slide your palmhusk into your back jean pocket, taking note of the address Elwurd's texted you, and lace up your blue-and-black hi-tops. It's time to go.

Using your new identity, you charter a streetcar to the club, and can hear the music thumping from blocks away. When you get to the door, you flash your palmhusk- a replacement ID- at the purpleblood bouncer, and to your relief, he waves you in. Nobody gives you a second glance (except maybe some guys trying to check you out) as you stroll nonchalantly over to Elwurd, who greets you with a casual wave.

"Hey, Zydnei. Didn't know if you'd show, lmao." She pronounces every letter of the acronym individually, then gestures to the indigo leaning against the bar next to her and leans in conspiratorally. "Check out this tall glass of water. Her name's Kavsir. Cute, right?" Before giving you a chance to nod, affirm her viewpoint, or even acknowledge she'd asked you a question, she pushes on. "Listen, I know you're into guys, right. Not my thing, really. But I've got another bestie coming tonight, and I might have kiiinda set you up. Lmao."

Before you can process this information in full, Elwurd returns to her spot at the bar, presumably to order Kavsir a drink and chat a bit more. You buy a drink of your own and shiver as you sip it, both because of the sour, tangy taste and lavishness of the finest drink you've ever had. As you stand in the corner like an absolute loser, you start watching the door, and suddenly.

This guy walks in.

His head's shaved on both sides, slick black hair spilling down the middle of his forehead. His horns are pierced multiple times, as well as his ears, nose, and brow. It's insanely hot. You don't know what to do with yourself. His smirk is amazing, and you let your eyes drift down his body, skimming over his skin-tight black shirt with his sign on it, his black jeans, and his dark blue shoes. He's easily the hottest guy in the club. You could look at him all night, but then you see Elwurd frantically calling you over to the bar, and you're not about to disappoint the troll who invited you, so what else is there to do? You see Elwurd's face, and feel a pang of guilt as you realize Kavsir's not there anymore.

"Hey, why the long face? Kavsir's on the dance floor. I'mma join her in a sec, but I needed to introduce you to Mallek first." And up strolls the Hottie with a capital H you were just eyeing. Elwurd brightens. "Mallek, meet Zydnei. Zydnei, Mallek. I gotta go, but have fun, and-" she pushes a claw into your chest- "don't leave without saying goodbye, no matter how much you wanna bang. It's not polite." With that, she scampers off, the metal tips of her combat boots clicking on the floor. And you're alone, well, not really alone, but Elwurd's gone and you don't know anyone else here to talk to, so you're by yourself with this hot guy. Mallek. Who's currently extending a palm.

"Hey, dude, your head in the clouds or somethin'? You seem kinda dreamy. Wait, that came out wrong." He's so awkward. He's blushing. Shit, that's cute. You need to talk to him, and quick, before he loses interest.

"Uh, how about a drink? Do you want one, I mean. I have credits to spare," you stammer. He does a noncommital gesture of affirmation, and you order the same drink you'd had last time for both of you. As the bartender slides the drinks down the bar to him and you, you catch them both and offer him one. God, that was so cool. You need to be cool like this more often.

"So, Zydnei, was it? Very nice to meet you. I'm Mallek, and I love computers and guys." Seeing your downturned expression, he quickly adds, "But not just guys! I can go for anyone. Especially cute people. Like you." He does another little nervous-laugh.

"Yeah, Zydnei's my name, and music's my game. Especially electronic. Lo-fi, all that stuff?" Not exactly a great choice, but at least you chose a vocation that you do know something about, and you were too focused on overpronouncing your Z's that you didn't have time to think of a fake job that ceruleans might actually do. But it seems okay, he's nodding, that's a good sign, right?

"Cool, cool. If you ever have problems with your audio software? Give me a ring. I can fix pretty much anything, as long as it's specifically Imperial-issue husktops made in the past 20 sweeps." You let him put his number in your palmhusk, and inwardly think, hell yes. You have a cute guy's number. You could leave right now and your day would be complete. Before you can finish any other thought, however, Elwurd stumbles over, with Kavsir hanging off her arm.

"Hey, lovegrubs. Sun's comin' up soon. Either you wait out the day here in this stupid dive bar, or you get home. As for me, I'm gonna be taking this lady to have a bit of coffee at my hive." She gives an exaggerated wink and walks off a bit too confidently, dragging Kavsir with her. You turn back to face Mallek, who seems a bit flustered.

"I, well, I don't usually have people over to my hive so soon, and I haven't cleaned up," he confesses. "But you have my handle, right? Maybe we can get together some other time, for, like, lunch." You nod almost too eagerly- this disguise is kinda exhausting to keep up, honestly- and dial for a streetcar.

"Mallek?" He's walking out of the bar after saying his goodbyes and returning his empty glass to the bartender, but at the sound of his name, he turns to face you for a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, have a good morning."

"You too, Zyd."

And with that, he's gone, and your streetcar's gonna be here soon, and you have his handle in your palmhusk, and you cannot wait to get home and talk to him more.

**Author's Note:**

> this is gonna be a very good fic about very good friendsim trolls. at the time of writing, mallek n lyneras volume was the most recent one to come out, so if i dont use trolls u think i should, its probably because they dont have personalities yet lmao. enjoy me and my first contribution to homestuck fanfiction in literally over half a year haha, comments and kudos are always appreciated, etc etc this is gonna be a long one so stick with it ok. thanks <3


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